White, Black, Grey
by Gift of the Muses
Summary: A very angsty story about the relationship between Satoshi and Daisuke. One sided SxD
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: So, I'm in the middle of writing Broken Circles, not planning on putting out anymore stories until I'm done with it, take a break to sit down and watch D N Angel __again for the umpteenth time and voila: inspiration. So here's a story with a lot of angst regarding the relationship between Satoshi and Daisuke. It's a bit different from any of my other stories. But then, considering I only have one chapter fic up right now and a oneshot I don't have much to compare it to. Anyway, hope you enjoy._

Satoshi was always watching him. Even after both their alter egos were sealed away. He watched as he married Rika, had a son, Daiki. Watched as he became a semi famous artist. He watched and he wanted. Daisuke was always too bright, too innocent for him, he had never dared come too close to him; so Satoshi watched.

When he was alone, when he touched himself, he imagined different hands on him, a different body, a different voice crying out in pleasure. He remembered the feeling of those lips under his own, the feel of his skin. His smile.

They met again at a showing of Daisuke's artwork. Satoshi had read about it in the local paper and hadn't been able to resist the urge to show up. He wandered the exhibit. Daisuke's works all had heart. Perhaps the technicalities of what made art great weren't there, but Satoshi preferred the redhead's work to any other he'd ever seen. There was peace in Daisuke's paintings.

"Like it?"

The question made Satoshi jump. He turned to see laughing vermillion eyes and a familiar shaggy red hair cut. Daisuke's voice was deeper, changed from his adolescent treble, while he was taller, more muscular. Only his hands were the same, long thin fingers, possibly slightly callused. Artist's hands.

Satoshi glanced back at the painting he'd been staring at. It was a simple landscape. A house with a tree and lone figure sitting in the shade. He didn't know exactly why it appealed to him, but it did. "Yeah." He shoved his hands into his coat's pockets to keep them from doing something stupid, like grab Daisuke and pull him into a kiss.

"You can have it." Daisuke reached up and pulled the price tag off the painting.

"No." Satoshi protested. "You can't do that."

"I'm the artist, I can do whatever I like."

"At least let me pay you for it." Satoshi reached for his wallet.

Daisuke touched his arm, freezing him where he stood. "Consider it a gift from a friend."

Satoshi didn't protest. His voice had disappeared. He couldn't move until Daisuke pulled back releasing him from his trance.

"It's been a while Satoshi. What do you say to having a couple drinks together after this is over?"

"I can't." Satoshi hedged. "Busy tomorrow."

"Come on." Daisuke slung an arm across his shoulders. "It's been too long. I promise not to keep you too late."

Again he couldn't think. Satoshi found himself silently nodding, agreeing to Daisuke's proposal. Someone called, drawing Daisuke's attention. He pulled away laughing, waving. "I'll see you in half an hour."

It would be fine wouldn't it? It was harmless really, just two old friends getting together for drinks. Nothing wrong with that was there? Satoshi stared down at the business card in his hand. The name of a bar scrawled on the back. He shouldn't go. He wouldn't go, he would simply go back home and….

He couldn't help himself. It was a weakness. He cursed his heart as he stood at the bar, cursed the way it brightened as he heard Daisuke calling his name. Cursed himself for a fool even as he turned and smiled at the man heading toward him. "Hey."

Daisuke grinned at him as he ordered a drink. "You forgot your painting. It's in my car."

"Oh." Satoshi tore his eyes away from Daisuke's lips. They were fascinating. He could stare at them forever. Instead he focused on the beer bottle in his hands.

"So, what've you been up to? It's been a while since I heard from you."

"Nothing much, business as usual. Mostly boring." Satoshi brushed off the query. "How's the kid?"

Daisuke visibly brightened. "Good, really good. I swear he'll have grown another couple inches by the time I get back."

Satoshi stood listening as Daisuke rattled on about his son, his wife, his perfect life. In that moment he hated himself for being so stupid, standing here only to let his heart break again.

The minutes until their goodbyes dragged on and yet flashed by in an instant.

"Don't forget your painting."

"Oh, of course not." Satoshi took the wrapped frame, sliding it carefully into the backseat of his car.

"Listen don't be a stranger." Daisuke gripped his shoulder firmly. "Whenever you're back in town give me a ring. My number's on the card I gave you. Have dinner with us one of these days. I'm sure everyone would be glad to see you."

Satoshi mumbled something to the effect that he would try. It convinced Daisuke enough that he let him go, waving cheerfully as he headed to his own vehicle.

He went back to his own place. Empty. He felt wrung out, exhausted. Every time he saw Daisuke his lonely existence only managed to look bleaker and more pathetic.

"Someday you'll meet that one person who's glad you were born."

Old words that brought no comfort. He unwrapped the painting, driving a nail into the wall, hanging it carefully. The one person he most wanted to be glad of his existence already had their someone. So he sat, staring at the painting, feeling the shadows deepen around him as they always did whenever he left Daisuke.


	2. Chapter 2

There were days Daisuke simply wished to disappear. There was no specific reason. He had no complaints with his life. It was simply some mornings he woke and wondered if it wasn't all some big dream. He loved his wife, loved his son, loved his work, but something was missing.

There was nothing he could do. When the feeling threatened to overwhelm him he locked himself away and painted. He rarely showed the creations from those frenzied times to his family. Riku softly asked about them and when he brushed her off with a lame excuse had given up.

He had almost thrown them away, but something prevented them. Instead he made them into a makeshift book. Paper, not canvas, his medium for those times. Afterwards he painted the tranquil scenes that sold, bringing in income to feed his family.

"Daisuke, it's suppertime."

Daisuke looked up. Riku stood in the doorway. Absently he brushed his hand across his face. Riku smiled at the smudge he left behind. "I'll be there in a moment. Just give me a moment."

"Sure hon." Riku turned to go. Daisuke stared at the now empty doorway for a long time before turning back to his canvas.

Black wings.

White wings.

Disappear.

"Daddy, Daddy!"

"Daiki, don't interrupt your father."

Daisuke set his brush down and went to see his son. When he looked at his family he sometimes saw colors. Daiki was vibrant, a streak of brilliant sunset red, his hair the same shade as his mother's. Riku a more muted shade of mauve, gentled down by the years she had gained. His mother a yellow. His father blue. But when he looked at the mirror he couldn't imagine what his color was. It simply wasn't there.

Missing.

He ran into Satoshi again at one of his art exhibits. He looked at Satoshi and all he saw was black. Just like Dark's wings. Deep, beautiful ebony.

How? How could he have a color when Daisuke couldn't find one in himself?

He smiled, talked, laughed, his normal self. Satoshi didn't look at him much, accepting his gift with reluctance. That didn't bother Daisuke. He'd always been rather uncomfortable under Satoshi's scrutiny.

How had he managed to acquire Dark's color?

He didn't want to leave, to lose contact, so Daisuke gave Satoshi a business card and a trite invitation to dinner.

At home he buried himself in his painting. Black wings, white wings. The colors mixed together. Grey wings. He waited for the phone to ring, waited to get his answer.

"Daisuke, there's someone on the phone for you."

Daisuke hurried, full of anticipation.

"Mr. Niwa, my client wishes to commission a painting."

Life went on, same as always. Daisuke painted, played with Daiki, fell asleep with Riku. Dreamed of endless black. Prepared for his next showing.

"How long are you going to be gone this time Daddy?"

"Just a couple days Daiki, not long at all." Daisuke ruffled the boy's hair playfully.

"Can I come with you?"

"Maybe next time."

"And Mom too?"

"Sure."

The phone rang.

"Niwa."

"Satoshi?"

Silence.

"I shouldn't have called."

"Don't say that. I'm glad you did." Daisuke tried to think of something to say, something that would keep Satoshi from hanging up. "I'd invite you over but I'm leaving tomorrow. I have another exhibit. Maybe you could come over when I get back."

"Where?"

"Pardon me?"

"Your exhibit."

Daisuke told him.

"I'll see you there." Satoshi hung up.

"Who was that Daddy?"

Daisuke smiled at Daiki. "Just an old friend Daiki."

He packed his book of paintings, hiding them under a layer of clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't know why he called. It was stupid. Stupid to agree to meet with Daisuke again. It was all that painting's fault. He sat and stared at it until he couldn't help himself. He'd found himself with the phone in hand, dialing.

When he heard Daisuke's voice, he struggled with the juvenile urge to slam the phone back onto the cradle. Instead he responded. It was a stilted conversation no matter how you looked at it. But when he finally hung up he had arranged to meet Daisuke at his next art exhibit.

The meeting itself felt awkward. Daisuke kept staring at him, a slightly glazed look in his eyes. Satoshi tried to shrug it off. By the time they went to dinner he was resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders into a defensive posture.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, no." Daisuke seemed to mentally shake himself. "I was just looking at your color."

Satoshi stared, frowned.

"Sorry, sorry." Daisuke waved his hands. "Just sometimes when I look at people…" He stopped, staring again.

"Niwa." Satoshi's frown deepened.

"Daiki's red." Daisuke murmured. "Mom's yellow, Dad's blue, Riku's mauve. But you, you're black Satoshi."

Black. Satoshi inwardly shrunk. The shadows were encroaching again, overwhelming him, encouraged by Daisuke's words. Even Daisuke's own brilliance was not holding them back now.

"I don't understand." Daisuke sounded puzzled, hurt even. "Why do you have Dark's color?"

Satoshi froze. Dark's color? He remembered Daisuke's alter ego well, He'd chased him, nearly capturing him several times. But remembrances of Dark also led him to remember his own alter ego. Krad was someone he would rather forget entirely.

"Dark's color?" He asked cautiously.

"Why do you have it?" Daisuke turned the question on Satoshi. "When I don't have a color at all."

"What?" Satoshi stared. No color? Daisuke was always brilliant, always shining. "You're white." It was spoken without thinking.

"White." Daisuke sighed.

White was Krad's color. Satoshi wanted to hit himself, but there was no other way to describe how he saw Daisuke. The color itself wasn't bad, it was simply the connotations the color originally had for him. But now it was different.

"White and black and grey."

"What?"

"Mix white and black and you get grey." Daisuke muttered. "I don't even know why I brought this." He dropped a handmade book on the table.

Satoshi reached for it and began paging through. Wings, paintings upon paintings of wings, white, black, some blending into grey. Paintings of Dark and Krad, fighting. One that looked like the two were embracing. The very last one made him pause. It was of himself, only he had black wings. Satoshi traced it, fingertips lightly skimming over the paper as he followed the brushstrokes.

"I miss him sometimes." Daisuke rambled on, his eyes fixated on the painting. "When I saw you the other day I was surprised." His gaze darted up and met Satoshi's. "Tell me, why do you have Dark's color?"

"Why do you have Krad's?"

Daisuke blinked, pulled his book out from under Satoshi's hands, paging through his art. "I don't." He stopped at a painting Satoshi had passed. Feathers, white and black vanishing off the edge of the page. In the background, lightly rendered in pencil was a self portrait.

No sound.

Satoshi glanced at Daisuke. "I don't know what you're so upset about. Color or no color you have a great life."

"I know." Daisuke shut the book carefully. "But, sometimes I miss Dark." He propped his elbows on the table. "It just really surprised me when I saw you had Dark's color. It's like finding the last piece of the puzzle you thought you'd lost forever."

"Hmm." Satoshi folded his hands. "Black and white make grey."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you shouldn't expect everything to go on like it did. You've mixed your colors now you have to paint with what you've got."

"I guess so." Daisuke laughed. "Look at me, getting all nostalgic." He stifled a yawn. "I feel lots better, thanks Satoshi. I don't know if it's because you have Dark's color now or if it's just because you're one of the few people who can really understand what I'm going through, but I really appreciate it either way."

"What about Rika?" Satoshi cursed his tongue. "Doesn't she understand?"

"I can't really talk about it with her." Daisuke confessed. "I think she'd try to understand, but it wouldn't be the same." He glanced at his watch. "Boy it's late. I've gotta get going." He stood up, reached for his book and then paused. "Satoshi, I wonder if you could do me a favor and keep this for me, just for now."

Satoshi took the book. "Sure."

"Thanks, see you later then."

Satoshi watched him go, gripping the book tightly as he watched Daisuke walk away yet again. Still, somehow the shadows didn't seem so ominous this time. "Black and white and grey." Perhaps it wasn't what he hoped for, but it was more then he could've dreamed of.

Having Dark's color, well, that wasn't so bad.

Black wings filled a space in Daisuke's heart, now they stretched out in a thin line, connecting him to Satoshi. Perhaps it wasn't what Satoshi had hoped for but it was certainly more then he'd ever thought possible. "Black and white make grey. So maybe, just maybe."

Maybe someday.

Just maybe.

_Finis_


End file.
